THE NEW SPORT OF -HAWKING" 281 



rebuilding this nest. It was not until the twenty-fifth of May 

 that I returned, in a pouring rain. As I expected, the bird 

 was on the nest, her head raised to watch the intruders. A 

 blow on the trunk made her flap slowly off. She alighted in 

 a neighboring tree, and kept uttering her shrill, high-pitched, 

 whistling scream, flying now and then to circle a bit, and 

 alight in another place, never far from home. I found that 

 the nest was the usual rude structure, a layer of sticks 

 added to the squirrels' nest, and a lining of leaves and bark, 

 in which lay two of the most beautiful eggs I had ever seen, 

 the white background being heavily blotched with rich 

 brown, giving the eggs a strong resemblance to those of the 

 Sharp-shinned Hawk, except for their larger size. The whole 

 scene the handsome eggs, the hovering bird, the woods 

 dark in the storm, and the wild, thundering cataract close by 

 takes its place in my memory as one of uncommon 

 grandeur. 



Few happenings in " hawking " please me more than 

 finding the nest of the Httle Sharp-shinned Hawk. It is 

 a neat structure of clean new twigs, without any lining 

 whatever, usually well up a slender evergreen tree of some 

 sort, in the woods. The birds are very jealous of intrusion, 

 and will sometimes thus betray the vicinity of the nest. One 

 thirteenth of May as I passed through a grove of young 

 pines with a fellow naturalist, a pair of these little hawks set 

 up a tremendous outcry, and even swooped at us, as we 

 went peacefully along the cart-path. This set us to search- 

 ing, and very soon I climbed to the nest, and found it com- 

 pleted, the eggs not yet laid. Two weeks later I took the 

 beautiful set of four, despite the angry dashes of the mother, 

 and much to the joy of the farmer whose chicken-yard, 

 close by, had been almost depopulated by the pestiferous 

 little raptors. 



